


Three Candles and a Full Moon

by AidanChase



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Reflection, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 09:18:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2343245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AidanChase/pseuds/AidanChase
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus Lupin and Sirius Black have never been so alone in 10 years as they are now, after James and Lily have passed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Candles and a Full Moon

**Author's Note:**

> this should probably just go as a chapter in my drabbles fic but... idk it didn't really fit the tone of those shorts so i made it its own work... hope that's okay?

_November 2, 1981_

While the rest of the wizarding world celebrates with bright lights and fireworks, there is one small dark window lit only with three tiny candles.

Remus Lupin didn’t mean to organize a ceremony for James and Lily Potter. He only just now realizes, with everyone gathered here in the living room of his small loft, that the duty of doing so really does fall to him. He wonders suddenly if that means he should’ve gotten flowers have a eulogy prepared, but his momentary panic fades as a wave of grief consumes him, and he reminds himself that this is not a memorial ceremony. James and Lily Potter don’t need one—they are well-remembered by the rest of the wizarding community. This is just a small gathering of people who love James and Lily, of people who have lost much and gained much with their sacrifice. This is all James and Lily would’ve wanted.

He was north on Order business on Halloween Night, and came down as soon as he received an owl from Dumbledore that something had happened to the Potters. And when the whole story unfolded upon his arrival, it had been more than a shock. Sirius Black, traitor to the Order? Traitor to James and Lily? He couldn’t believe it.

(“Blood will out,” echoed among some of the older members of the Order, and Remus wanted to tell them angrily that their blood has as much history as the Blacks, and should we suspect them to all turn Death Eater at a moment’s notice?)

He was unable to see Harry by the time he arrived. Dumbledore told him that Harry is staying with Lily’s sister now, and that makes sense to Remus, though he can’t remember if he’s ever met Lily’s sister. Priscilla? Petunia? Was she even at the Potters’ wedding? It was a small wedding, and he could picture every guest, but no one Lily had called family.

And Peter—poor Peter. In some ways, that loss hurts worse than James and Lily. James and Lily were targets for Death Eaters, they had importance in the battle against the Dark Lord. But Peter was dragged into the Order by his friends, and Remus knows how terrified of war Peter was. Remus can’t understand why Sirius would’ve gone after Peter.

(“I saw him draw his wand!” someone said. “On that poor nervous boy! What a monster!” and Remus felt the knots in his stomach tighten.) 

There are no bodies to mourn. Nothing to grieve but memories—memories he already has trouble convincing himself are real, because some of them are far too good for him.

A week ago, on the night of the new moon, he looked at the stars and tried to sort through what were memories and what were dreams. It felt so wrong to live a life where he was at once a horrid monster, and at once blessed with the best of friends who saw him as nothing more than human, and still cared for and provided for him.

Even now, though the moon is not much more than a sliver in the sky, he can already feel the growing ache in his bones. And as Alice Longbottom gently bounces her baby boy and paces his living room, he can only think that maybe he’d seen Frank and Alice and their baby and so he’d dreamed up James and Lily and Harry. And he looks over at Emmeline Vance in the corner, with her high cheekbones and unfailingly loyalty and thinks that maybe he’d seen her and dreamed up Sirius Black. Maybe it’s all in his head and he has only dreamed these stories and these friends and maybe he has nothing to grieve.

And then Profes—no, just Minerva. She is just Minerva now. She squeezes his shoulder and sits down next to him. And Remus begins to cry because no, it isn’t only a dream. Everything really happened and everything is really, truly lost.

He had three best friends—he had a family—and it’s gone.

Celebrations can be heard outside as the door opens and Dumbledore and Alastor Moody enter. And then the door closes and the room is plunged into heavy silence once again.

Until Frank says, “So it’s done, then?”

And Dumbledore nods. “Dedalus is escorting him down to Azkaban himself.” Then he turns to address the rest of the company. “I know that all of you present sacrificed much for our Order, for the sake of our world. And we have lost many, not just James and Lily Potter, but other dear friends and family. However, after tonight, I believe we can call our battle done.”

Alastor Moody grunts. “For you. Us Aurors have our work cut out for us, sorting Death Eaters out from the lot.”

“It’ll be much easier than the war we’ve been fighting,” Alice says with a pleasant smile. Remus doesn’t understand how anyone could look that way after having lost James and Lily. Even the smallest smile, however false, sounds like more effort than he can bear. “Without their Dark Lord to rally behind, they won’t last long at all.”

“You underestimate the power of pureblood status and money,” Emmeline Vance answers quietly.

“Will Sirius Black talk? Give names?” Frank asks. “It would make our job easier.”

“A night in Azkaban will usually loosen anyone’s tongue,” Alastor answers, and Remus isn’t sure if those words are supposed to hurt, but Minerva squeezes his shoulder again.

“We’d better get Neville to bed,” Alice says, and Frank stands.

“We’re very sorry for your loss, Remus,” Frank says, and Remus stares up at him blankly, not sure if he should return the condolences—James and Lily and Peter were friends to them all—but somehow it seems like everyone is looking at him like he lost the most.

Emmeline and Alastor leave next, and Remus is alone with his former teachers.

Remus finally manages to look at Dumbledore, and to say the words that have been lodged in his throat since the story was told to him in full, thirty-seven hours ago.

“I want to see him.”

“I don’t think that’s wise,” Dumbledore answers.

“I have to ask him why.”

“He isn’t telling anyone why. Sirius Black maintains that he is innocent, though all evidence points to the contrary.”

“He’ll answer me,” Remus says, though the words feel false. He thought that he knew and understood Sirius better than anyone, better even than James at times, but now he isn’t sure what he knows.

“I don’t think it’s wise for you to go to Azkaban,” Minerva says, and squeezes his shoulder again. “And I don’t think it’s wise for you to see Sirius Black with such fresh grief.”

There is nothing fresh about his grief, Remus thinks. It feels very old, like it has been lying in wait for years and years. He thinks of being twelve years old, when Sirius and James and Peter confronted him about being a werewolf, and instead of turning him away, they’d accepted him. He thinks that at twelve years old, his grief began lurking, like a predator in a forest, and he’s only been waiting for it to pounce all this time. 

Dumbledore leaves shortly after. Minerva stays until sunrise the next day, until Emmeline comes and offers to make Remus breakfast, which he declines. Minerva leaves and Emmeline stays. She stays with him all day, and Remus isn’t sure if she’s there to console him or guard him or keep him from storming Azkaban himself and demanding answers.

After dinner she begins peering out windows with a slowly increasing anxiety on her face. Around midnight, she finally says, “Frank was supposed to come stay with you after he put Neville to bed.”

Just before sunrise, Dumbledore arrives with more tragic news, and Remus politely asks the both of them to leave. He doesn’t want to think on it anymore. He doesn’t want to know any more. What they have all lost is already more than enough, and he would like to endure it alone, because alone is all he will ever have again.

———

November 11, 1981

Sirius Black has finally managed to stop shaking. But as his rage wears off, his sorrow moves in. He shoves it aside. He can’t dwell on his hurts. He can’t allow himself to grieve. The Dementors will surely consume him beyond hope if he allows them that meal. Because there is oh so much grief and sorrow in him. Twenty-one long years of hurts and terrors for them to feed on. And he can’t let them have any of it.

So he remembers Peter Pettigrew, and how he trusted Peter. How he convinced James and convinced Lily that Peter was such a brilliant plan. That the Death Eaters would never expect them to choose Peter. That Sirius decided it was better to trust Peter than to trust himself with James and Lily’s life.

He thinks of how he wasn’t allowed a word in at his own trial. He thinks of how even Dumbledore ignored his cries of innocence, how Dumbledore ignored him when he begged to plead his own case. He thinks that everyone is grieving James and Lily and he can only allow himself resentment in its place.

So he gets angry. And his anger keeps him alive.

But through a small crack in the stone of his cell—the ancient mortar worn away by the previous inmate’s frantic scratching on the walls—the moonlight filters through. Bright, white, and more painful than anything he’s thought of in this last week.

He remembers Remus. And how when James said, “Why don’t we use Remus? He’s far out of the Death Eater’s reach right now,” and Sirius told him he’s sure there’s a spy in the Order and he’s afraid it’s Remus. And James gave him a look, but Sirius brushed it off, because James Potter was always too trusting and too loyal, and James Potter didn’t understand what it was like to grow up in a place full of lies and deceit. But Sirius did and he wishes he’d been able to love the way James loved.

And Sirius thinks of how awful it was he ever suspected Remus, and his grief comes crashing down in a way he isn’t prepared for. He lost James and Lily and he lost Remus and he can be angry with Peter for losing James and Lily, but there is no way he can blame Peter for losing Remus. There is no one else to blame for that. And he deserves whatever Remus must think of him now.


End file.
